


Destiny

by laireshi



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Angst, Devil Trigger, Incest, M/M, Slight Canon Divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 07:45:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19807825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laireshi/pseuds/laireshi
Summary: Vergil had always known how to unlock Dante's true power. V has not forgotten that part of himself.





	Destiny

The Devil Sword Sparda that V had so coveted once upon a time is now in his grasp, all the enticing power enclosed in it whispering to V, promising might and protection, and he can't even _lift_ it. He'll never be able to use it, not without Urizen's strength woven back into his body.

Dante, though. He can do it. His little brother has certainly grown since the last time V _really_ saw him—but he still wasn't powerful enough to defeat Urizen. Once upon a time, V would've enjoyed learning that even half of his being could take down Dante. Now it's a catastrophe. 

He drags the Sparda to Dante's unconscious body, his muscles shaking with the exertion, Griffon's screams not helping things. Does he really think V has gone all this way to kill Dante now?

He's gathering what little strength he's got left to try and raise it when a reflection of light catches his eyes and he drops the Sparda in a surprise. He's not even annoyed at that, because he's just spotted the solution to his problems.

He staggers, but he doesn't fall as he slowly walks back to the base of the cliff over their current position. His arms ache, his legs can barely keep him upright. He wonders, idly, if Dante's human side would be strong and alive in all the ways he himself isn't.

A foolish question. He has something to do still.

"Hey, Shakespeare, this isn't the time to do fitness exercises," Griffon chides, but he brings V his cane all the same.

"No . . . but Dante can't take on Urizen as he is now."

"And that's why you're not waking him?"

"Patience." 

V reaches his destination. He uses the tip of his cane to push away the hellish vegetation to uncover the Rebellion—

And see that it's broken in half. 

The explosion of pain in his chest catches him by surprise. He drops to his knees, clutching at his cane that's all wrong, too light to carry and lacking the sharpness to cut through the fabric of reality, shorter than he's used to, with a grip that is good enough but that doesn't bring him comfort the way a cord-wrapped hilt would.

It had taken barely a second for the Yamato to shatter in his grasp, but it's carved into his memory forever; her smooth blade breaking, unable to withstand Mundus' terrible strength because Vergil was too weak, just like V is right now. It almost didn't hurt when Mundus pierced his heart with her broken-off tip—if he was screaming, it was at losing her, not at his own pain. (That came later.)

V trembles, and only realises he isn't actually bleeding out when Shadow licks a long stripe along his cheek. 

He isn't sure what's more insulting: that his other part kept the miraculously re-formed Yamato, took her away from him, or that he broke Dante's Rebellion like it meant nothing to destroy the swords their father left them.

V can only hope the half of the sword will be enough.

He tries to get up with the Rebellion, falls down again. Shadow tries to prop him up and V leans on him, both grateful and hating his own state. The Rebellion isn't as heavy as the Sparda, especially broken, but even so it's almost too much to bring it back to Dante's side. 

"Are you building a sword fort for your brother now?" Griffon asks. 

" _Quiet_."

He takes a deep breath to steady himself. Then, he raises the Rebellion as high as he can—and jams it straight through Dante's chest.

Demonic power scorching like fire erupts around Dante, running in waves around his body. V watches, fascinated in a morbid way as the Demonic Sword Sparda merges into his brother's body. He hadn't realised that was possible.

And then an inferno explodes where Dante lays, too bright to look at, and V is thrown away.

When he can see again, there is a demon hovering over him.

Its form is nothing like Dante's familiar demonic form, and yet, V would always recognise his little brother, the taste of his power forever burnt into his heart. He's holding an unfamiliar-looking sword, but V can guess as to its nature, having just witnessed what happened to the Sparda. 

"Vergil," Dante growls in a voice nothing like his own. 

It makes V's hair stand on end, a primal sort of fear paralysing him. If Dante's demon decided it's better to end both parts of Vergil, starting with the pathetic little human, V would not be able to stop him—probably wouldn't even live long enough to notice Dante's made his decision. And yet, there is a part of V that's _awed_ , that wants to kiss all that power from Dante's lips in a bout of madness.

Dante looks at him, molten eyes like the centre of a burning star and just as blinding.

"Yes, little brother?" V makes himself ask.

Between one blink of the eye and the next, Dante transforms back into a deceptively human shape. V isn't fooled: the difference between their strength is obvious, and Dante might be more human than Vergil's ever been, but he's not any less of a demon.

"Is stabbing me with my own sword a hobby of yours?"

"Shouldn't you thank me, Dante?" V gestures at him. "You should have enough power to defeat Urizen, don't you think?"

Dante huffs in annoyance. "Projecting much, V? I wasn't the one who craved power."

Of course. Because Dante had never been in a position when he truly had to protect himself and those who cared about and _couldn't_. Apparently, even his defeat at the hands of Urizen couldn't drive this simple lesson home. 

V has regrets about what he's done in his own pursuit of power, but if he had a chance, he would've taken different turns with the same end goal in mind.

"Be that as it may," V says, "You do need to defeat him. Nero was _useless_."

Dante's face sharpens at that. "Don't bring Nero into this," he warns, and oh, so at last he chooses to protect someone, and it's a random kid?

(A random kid with white hair and too much power; a random kid operating Dante's business. V doesn't like the implications.)

Dante rolls his shoulders. "Time for me to go. Can't let a boy do a man's job."

" _Wait_."

Dante hesitates. "V—Vergil. How much do you remember?"

_Too much_. "Everything." An easy enough lie; he's too weak to admit to a lack of knowledge about his own life of all things. "It matters not. _Enlightenment means taking full responsibility for your life._ "

Dante turns to look at his familiars, briefly, like he knows the truth behind them when he _can't_. "Is that so?" he mutters. "I killed you."

"I'm aware."

"I didn't know."

V digs his fingernails into his palms. He reaches into his soul, where he knows the fire and hate reside, drowning out his feelings—

And doesn't find them.

Tears prickle at his eyes, shameful, unwanted, and unnecessary: Dante _had_ freed him, after all, and it was the one thing V couldn't despise him for. 

But he'd thought it _was_ personal.

He lashes out like only humans can. "You know now. Shouldn't that make everything easier?"

Dante takes a step back, and something in V's blood sings at having any sort of power over this predator. 

"We must fight, don't we?" V presses on. "Go, Dante. Find your destiny."

And Dante _flees_.


End file.
